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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26934310">The Lights Will Lead You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_jaebyrd/pseuds/red_jaebyrd'>red_jaebyrd</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Batman - All Media Types</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Accidental Child Acquisition, Batman AU, Bruce Wayne is a Good Parent, Gen, I have nothing against the Drakes, Minor Characters Death, Nightmares, Prompt: Trail of Blood, Protective Bruce Wayne, They had to go for the sake of the plot, Tim Drake Needs a Hug, Traumatized Tim Drake, Whumptober 2020, Young Tim Drake, this fic is completely self indulgent</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-10</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 16:11:14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,528</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26934310</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/red_jaebyrd/pseuds/red_jaebyrd</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim looked down at his hands and all down his front. The blood was still all over. The cut from his elbow made a small trail on the clean kitchen floor. He clutched his hurt arm tighter to his chest. He tried to talk, but a painful lump in his throat prevented him from getting any words out. Frustration bubbled in his chest and he started crying. The butler held him tightly whispering words Tim couldn’t really hear.</p><p>Five year old Timmy Drake is witness to a horrible tragedy. The first place he goes to find somewhere safe is his neighbor’s house.</p><p>A Batman AU where Tim came into the family at an early age.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Whumptober 2020 [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1948573</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>368</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>The Lights Will Lead You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>This is a self-indulgent fic I wrote to serve two purposes, one to have Tim join the family early and two to fulfil a prompt for Whumptober.</p><p>CW: for minor characters death, blood, dead parents, trails of blood</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>A five year old boy clutched his bleeding arm to his chest and frantically trudged through the grounds of his next door neighbor’s back garden. There he saw a large house with its lights on calling to him like a beacon. Help was there.</p><p>He knew he had neighbors. He had watched the older man, the butler his parents called him, tending to the roses sometimes when he climbed the tree near the garden wall. An older boy also lived there, Dick Grayson, the acrobat. He also lived in the house with Mr. Bruce. He had never talked to the boy or the older man; older people didn’t like talking to kids. But right now he needed a grown-up and fast.</p><p>He legs and lungs burned from the exertion. His elbow throbbed and bled under his hand, but he continued to run through his neighbors back garden until he reached the house. He found a back door and knocked as loudly and quickly has his little hand would allow. The blood on his hands made it hard to make a fist, but he kept pounding on the door until someone came to answer it.</p><p>A porch light came on and he could see someone approaching the door. The older man who tended the garden answered it.</p><p>“Hello, oh dear, Master Tim…,” the man said, ushering him inside the house. He crouching down to Tim’s eye level scanning his body for injuries. “My dear boy, are you alright? Are you hurt?  Is this your blood?”</p><p>Tim looked down at his hands and all down his front. The blood was still all over. The cut from his elbow made a small trail on the clean kitchen floor. He clutched his hurt arm tighter to his chest. He tried to talk, but a painful lump in his throat prevented him from getting any words out. Frustration bubbled in his chest and he started crying. The butler held him tightly whispering words Tim couldn’t really hear.</p><p>“Alfred, who is at the door? Oh crap, what the heck happened to him?”</p><p>“Master Dick, I need you to go get Master Bruce this instant.”</p><p>“Yes sir.”</p><p>Tim continued to sob as the butler, Alfred, held him and stroked his back. Soon heavy footfalls made it into the kitchen. When Tim pulled away from Alfred, he saw the mess he had made on the butler’s once white crisp shirt.</p><p>“G-get…h-help.” Tim muttered.</p><p>“Tim, can you tell me what happened?”</p><p>Tim straightened at the sound of the voice and looked directly into Mr. Bruce’s eyes.</p><p>“F-find s-safe.”</p><p>“Tim, you’re safe here. I promise,” Bruce reassured. “Alfred, call the police. Tell them to go to the Drake’s residence. Dick, I need you to get some of your old clothes. We need to get him cleaned up.”</p><p>Clean. Tim latched onto the word. He rubbed his hands along his trousers, but the action did nothing to take the blood away. In fact, it only seemed to make things worse.</p><p>Bruce turned to go down the cave and change, but Tim grabbed his hand.</p><p>“S-stay?”</p><p>Each word took forever to come out of Tim’s mouth. He usually didn’t have this much trouble talking. In fact, talking was something his parents always told him was something he did too much of all the time. Why couldn’t he tell them what happened? Why couldn’t he make any sense?</p><p>“Help.”</p><p>Bruce crouched down so that he was eye level to Tim. He squeezed Tim’s hand in his.</p><p>“Help is coming, Tim. I promise. But you need to stay here where it’s safe.”</p><p>Tim nodded. “Safe.”</p><p>“You’re safe with us. Stay here with Alfred and Dick, understand?” Bruce asked.</p><p>“Stay,” Tim whispered.</p><p>“I think the boy is shock, Sir,” Alfred said.</p><p>“I agree. Alfred. I think maybe giving him a bath will help him. We’ll need to save his clothes for the police. Get some gloves and a paper sack for his clothes.”</p><p>“Very well, Sir,” Alfred answered. He then turned his attention to Tim. “Master Tim, come with me, and we shall get you cleaned up.”</p><p>Alfred extended his hand out for Tim to take. Tim took the offered hand and allowed himself to be led to the washroom by Alfred.</p><p>“You’re going to the Drake’s house, aren’t you?” Dick asked.</p><p>“I’m going to see what I can find before the police get there. Stay here with Tim and Alfred. I’m sure Tim can use your company.”</p>
<hr/><p>Bruce hurriedly went to the cave and changed into his Batman uniform. He made it to the Drake’s house before the police arrived.</p><p>He swept through the entire house taking pictures of the crime scene. It had been ransacked. The intruders had likely been looking for specific items. It wasn’t surprising given Jack and Janet’s line of work at archeological dig sites. The recent dig site they were at had sparked rumors of a particular piece of an ancient art, mainly potted sculptures that dated back centuries. The pieces were said to be worth a small fortune.  </p><p>Despite the mess inside the house, there were no signs of forced entry. It looked like the Drakes had known the person who had robbed them and willingly let them in. Bruce followed a trail of blood from the foyer to an upstairs office.  Jack Drake lay face down with gunshot wounds to the head and leg.</p><p>Bruce followed another trail of blood that went from the office to the east wing of the house. Janet Drake lay slumped outside a closed bedroom door. There was a gunshot wound on her abdomen. Blood trickled down her mouth, her eyes were slightly opened, yet unseeing. Bruce checked for a pulse. There was nothing.</p><p>He tried opening the door, but it was locked. He pulled out a set of lockpicks and was able to get the door opened.  Bruce looked around and his heart sank. This was Tim’s bedroom. Tim was probably in here when his parents were robbed and shot. He grabbed a bag from the closet and began putting in clothes, some toys, a stuffed bear, books and a much loved and worn blanket from the bed into the bag.</p><p>A breeze blew in from the opened window of the bedroom. The window must have been where Tim had climbed out and ran for help. There were small bloody hand prints on the window sill. Bruce could now hear sirens and see the red and blue glow of the police cars, which was his cue to leave. He headed for the window and climbed out.</p><p>Once he arrived back at the Cave he uploaded the pictures into the Batcomputer. He was just about to type up a report when he heard Alfred arriving down the steps.</p><p>“Commissoner Gordon is here to see you, Sir.”</p><p>“Thanks Alfred. Tell him I’ll be right up, oh and take this bag to Tim’s room, please.”</p><p>Bruce quickly changed into a t-shirt and sweats and headed up to the main floor of the Manor. Commissioner Gordon and a young officer were waiting in the sitting room for Bruce.</p><p>“I have officers already at the Drake residence,” Gordon said. “Alfred informed me that the Drake boy came here for help. We will eventually need to speak with him, not tonight, but soon.”</p><p>Alfred handed Bruce the brown paper sack containing Tim’s clothes.</p><p>“Here are the clothes he was wearing,” Bruce said, handing the bag to Gordon. “I couldn’t make him stay in those clothes any longer. He was in shock and he needed to get clean as soon as possible. We took all the necessary precautions.”</p><p>“Understood. Where is the boy now?”</p><p>“Master Tim is asleep in a guest bedroom,” Alfred answered.</p><p>“Did he say anything to you?” Gordon asked, pulling out a notebook.</p><p>“Not much, just ‘get help’ ‘find safe’ and ‘stay’,” Bruce replied.</p><p>“Does Tim have any other family?”</p><p>“I don’t think so.”</p><p>“Well since he is settled in for the night, we can contact Family Services tomorrow –“</p><p>“No,” Bruce objected.</p><p>“<em>No</em>?” Gordon repeated.</p><p>“No. He will stay here. Moving him around will only further traumatize him. Don’t you agree, Commissioner?”</p><p>Gordon nodded in agreement. “We’ll be in touch. Contact me when you feel Tim is ready to talk.”</p><p>Bruce watched as Alfred walked Gordon to the door. Taking Tim Drake in was an impulsive decision, but it was also the right thing to do. He couldn’t just hand Tim over to family services. The boy was only 5 years old and already had been witness to such a horrific event.</p><p>“I’m pleased to hear that Master Tim will be staying here with us,” Alfred said, making his way back to Bruce. “I only wish it could have been under different circumstances.”</p><p>Bruce nodded. “Me too, Alfred.”</p><p>Bruce walked along the hallway toward the bedrooms to check on Dick and Tim. He peaked into Dick’s room and noticed the bed was empty. He proceeded down to the other guest bedroom next to Dick’s and gingerly opened the door.</p><p>Sleeping in the bed next to Tim was Dick with his arm around the small child. Tim lay on his back with his eyes closed, but his sleep did not look peaceful. Poor little guy’s brow was pinched like he was having a nightmare.  The stuffed bear from Tim’s room was clutched tightly in his arms.</p><p>Bruce adjusted the blankets around both boys and left the room.</p>
<hr/><p>
  <em>He hears the doorbell ring. Mommy told him that when the doorbell rings that means they have guests and he needs to go to his room to play and be quiet. He needs to be on his best behavior and not disturb mommy and daddy.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He goes to his room and closes the door just like his mommy always told him. He can hear muffled voices, which means the guests are being loud. Mommy and Daddy don’t like loud. They are always telling Tim he doesn’t need to yell, even if he is excited about numbers or letters or Legos.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He hears three loud pops and more screaming and yelling. He’s scared, so he shuts off his lights, locks his door and hides in his closet clutching his bear Mr Tumnus tightly to his chest.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He stays in his closet for a long time, until it starts to get really dark in his room. He can hear light knocks on his door and mommy saying his name.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Tim, Timothy, my love. I need you to do something for me. Go get help. Find somewhere safe and stay there. Don’t turn back. Did you hear me? What did I say?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Get help. Find safe. Stay.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Good boy, Timothy. Mommy loves you.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Mommy?”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>She doesn’t answer him. He opens the door and finds his mommy slumped on the floor. She’s not moving and her tummy is covered in red stuff. Blood. The red stuff is blood.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>“Mommy, wake up please.”</em>
</p><p>
  <em>He shakes her, but she’s not waking up. He sees a trail of blood and follows it to his dad’s office. He’s not allowed in there, but the door is open. He sees his dad on floor face down also not moving. He’s too scared to go any further. He hears his mommy’s last words in his head, ‘Get help. Find safe. Stay.’ </em>
</p><p>
  <em>He runs back toward his room and slips. More blood. It’s all over his hands and front and he can’t get it off. He tries to stand, but he slips in it again and it’s all over him now.  He doesn’t like being messy. He wants it off.  But it won’t come off. He can’t get it off. The blood is everywhere.</em>
</p><p>Tim gasped awake and sat bolt upright in the bed trying to get the imaginary blood off him. He looked around and realized he wasn’t in his bed. This only made him start to cry. Someone stirred next to him and Tim yelped. It was Dick, his neighbor. He was at his neighbor’s house. Why was he at his neighbor’s house?  Why wasn’t he with his parents?</p><p>Remnants of his nightmare began to flash in his mind’s eye jogging in his memory of the details of his parents last moments. Tim continued to weep. He tried so hard to breathe, but his heart was beating too fast he couldn’t catch his breath.</p><p>“I’m going to get Bruce, okay Timmy.”</p><p>Tim watched Dick go and hated that he was left alone in a strange room. Soon Bruce came into the bedroom. Dick followed close behind him.</p><p>“…had a nightmare…woke up screaming.”</p><p>Bruce sat on the bed in front of Tim and Tim launched himself into Bruce’s waiting arms. The sobs racked through his body as every single detail of the previous evening flashed before his eyes. He couldn’t make the images stop. He could still see his parents unmoving on the floor; hear the loud popping noises and his mommy’s screams ringing in his ears; smell the unfamiliar coppery scent of blood invading his nose. The worst was the sticky feel of the blood on his hands as he slipped in the trail of it getting back to his room from his dad’s office. He couldn’t get the blood off.</p><p>“I’ve got you, Tim. You’re safe now. I promise.” Bruce comforted, rubbing small circles on Tim’s back. “I know everything is so confusing right now. I know it hurts that they are gone. But we are here for you, Me, Dick and Alfred.”</p><p>Tim held onto to Bruce until his sobs calmed into hiccups. Bruce was rocking him and rubbing his back. With his ear pressed against Bruce’s chest, Tim could hear a low humming sound of a song rumbling through Bruce’s chest. The sound and the vibrations were oddly comforting. His head and eyes started to droop, but Tim fought hard to stay awake.</p><p>“Kiddo, go to sleep. I’m not going anywhere.”</p><p>“N-no,” Tim protested, his voice raspy from disuse. He clutched tightly to Bruce’s chest. “Don’t wanna see the blood.”</p><p>“It’s all gone now,” Bruce said, taking Tim’s hands and showing him.</p><p>Tim looked at his hands. Bruce was right. They were clean, not a spot of blood on them. But he still couldn’t get the tacky sensation of it out of his head. His hands still felt sticky. Would they always feel like that? He swallowed and curled his hands protectively into his chest.</p><p>“Tim, did you see what happened to your parents?”</p><p>He shook his head. “Only h-heard sh-shouting and three, 1-2-3, loud pops.”</p><p>“How did you get the blood on your clothes?”</p><p>“I slipped. Hurt my hands,” Tim answered, showing Bruce his hands. “And I cut my elbow from falling off the tree near the garden wall.”</p><p>“How did you know to come to my house?”</p><p>“M-mommy said, ‘get help, find safe, s-stay’.”</p><p>“You did good Tim. You’re safe now and you can stay here as long as you like.”</p><p>“I can s-stay? Forever?” Tim asked.</p><p>“Yes, kiddo. Forever.”</p><p>Tim nodded, still leaning against Bruce’s chest. Bruce continued to hold him and rub his back. Tim soon gave into the exhaustion, closed his eyes, and went to sleep.</p>
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